


Three's a Crowd

by becausewhynot (dontyoucrynomore)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance, also harry and merlin are both emotionally constipated idiots, and eggsy a complete puppy, and roxy is amazing, so the usual, this is more like pre-relationship than actual relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:45:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontyoucrynomore/pseuds/becausewhynot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy's already head over heals for Harry; he's apparently adding Merlin to that list, too. Harry doesn't want to admit anything, and, as such, is swimming in denial and perfectly content to do so. Merlin knows what's happening, but because he's absolutely done with everything, he isn't moved to do anything about it. The three are perfectly content in continuing in their non-action, and Roxy's on the side rolling her eyes, completely tired of dealing with this shit. When a solo mission goes awry, however, Eggsy's captured by a crazy fringe group, and they're rushing against the clock to save him. On the way and in the aftermath, Harry and Merlin are forced to come to terms with things they really rather shouldn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three's a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> yooooo here's my first ever kingsman fic. this is more a pre-relationship—the last line is eggsy going "so when's the first date"—so don't expect magical threesome sex or anything resembling that. this is also a slow fic. i'm kind of wanting add more to it—i feel like there are missing scenes—but i don't really have time to do that rn. maybe later. who knows?
> 
> anyway, thanks for clicking, and i'm sorry in advance. i kind of hate this fic, but post i must because i signed up for the big bang (which was actually a lot of fun, and would've been more fun if life hadn't decided to go all "no you have to pay attention to _me_ ") 
> 
>  
> 
> here's a link to my partner's [amazing artwork](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Kingsman_Bang/works/4662477%20), which accompanies this fic: 
> 
>  
> 
> anyway here's the fic. please realize i'm a very american person and don't know anything about british slang/customs, so forgive me if that's really apparent.
> 
> WARNINGS: brief ableism and ableist language, violence (nothing too graphic), and i think that's pretty much it. let me know if something else needs to be tagged.

Part 1

“You’re being obvious again.” 

Roxy’s voice snapped Eggsy out of his stupor, and he scowled at her as his cheeks warmed. “Shut up.”“I’m just being a good friend,” she said, looking up from her tablet, and the faux innocence she was sporting pissed him off. “Friends tell each other when they’re pining is becoming so obvious you can reach out and touch it.” 

Eggsy turned toward her, away from where he had been staring at the side of Harry’s head—the side without the scar—as Harry and Merlin talked in hushed tones about something or the other. “I’m not _pining_.” He was. He _so_ was. “I’m just—I was lost in thought.” 

He still couldn’t believe Harry was actually here, actually alive, even though it had been a year since Kentucky. He was the new Arthur—about a billion times better than the old one, that snobbish bastard—and didn’t really go into the field much, on account of his injury and the slight tremor in his right hand, but he had reinstated himself for his own personal mission, which had been a negotiation with the Americans and MI6 in relation to information about Valentine. 

Eggsy, Roxy, and Merlin had decided to rendezvous with him on the back from _their_ mission, which had been recon with minimal beating-someone-up. Well, Merlin had decided, and Eggsy had had no objections. 

Roxy raised an eyebrow. “Lost in thought and pining aren’t mutually exclusive, you realize.” 

Eggsy made a face. “Whatever.” 

Roxy hummed as she started typing again. “Great defense, there. Should’ve been a lawyer.” 

He was pretty sure he was reflecting the color of Harry’s fancy red robe. “I don’t need your cheek right now, thanks.” 

Roxy smirked and Eggsy stopped himself from groaning aloud because he _knew_ that smirk—it was her shit-eating, you’re-gonna-regret-saying-that smirk. “No, I guess you _need_ something completely different,” she said, and she wasn’t even subtle about it when she gave Harry a thorough once over before staring at Eggsy.

“Fuck off,” Eggsy said, sinking further into the jet’s seats, his suit jacket riding up his back. He hated Roxy. She was the worst. 

Roxy _tsk_ ed. “That how you treat your friends?” 

“Only the shitty ones,” he snapped. 

“Well, that solves the mystery of why you don’t have any,” Roxy said, and she was enjoying this a bit too much. 

He was about to reply with a properly scathing and witty retort—“I hate you”—when Harry called, “Eggsy.” 

His reaction was fucking pathetic, and he didn’t even blame Roxy for her quiet snort. He snapped up and looked toward Harry. “Yeah, Harry?” He might as well have started panting and brought up his paws, perked his ears up. He was like Pavlov’s fucking dogs when it came to Harry. 

Harry looked at him with fond amusement, and Eggsy ignored how warm it made him feel. Being around Harry had definitely upped Eggsy’s affinity with denial. “Would you mind coming here for a minute?”

Eggsy was out of his seat before the sentence was even finished. In five long steps he was beside Harry. “What’s up?” 

Harry looked up at him, eyes smiling. “Merlin here wanted a word with you.” 

Eggsy grinned at Harry before breaking eye contact to look at Merlin, who was raising an eyebrow.

“You two done?” Merlin said.

Harry glared at Merlin.

Eggsy cleared his throat before saying, “What’d you wanna ask?”  

Merlin held up a device that looked a lot like a cell phone but was in fact a device that was programmed with five hundred different code breaking techniques, capable of X-Ray vision, able to debilitate up to five grown men, and some more stuff Eggsy hadn’t really listened to because Harry and him had been too busy sharing amused looks over Merlin’s enthusiastic gushing. All Eggsy really knew was a) he’d needed to plug it into the main drive and b) it could shoot enough poison to knock out enemies. “How did this happen?”

That device was now completely smushed, the screen smashed to hell, bent at a weird angle. It looked even more pitiful in Merlin’s large hands.

Eggsy shrugged. “Dunno. It just happened.” 

Merlin looked disgusted. It would have been funny, if—well, no, it was fucking hilarious. “This is literally the first time this device has been tested in the field. The _first time_ , Eggsy. Don’t _dunno—“_

“Oi, I don’t sound like that.”

“—me.Do you know how long this prototype took? Because that’s what it was—a _prototype_. You know what that means? It means we actually need it intact.” 

“I’m sorry,” Eggsy said, not sorry at all, “I really am, but, I mean—what’d you expect? Shit doesn’t wanna stay intact in the field, y’know that.” 

“It doesn’t wanna stay intact because you agents are hellbent on _ruining it_.” 

“He’s apologized, Merlin. Really, what more can he do?” Harry cut in, face solemn, but Eggsy knew he was laughing underneath. 

If Merlin’s unimpressed look was anything to go by, he knew this, too. “Don’t even try, Harry. You’re as bad as he is. Maybe even worse.” 

“I take offense to that.” 

“Oi, I’m not _that_ bad,” Eggsy said, but the fact that he was grinning ruined any irritation he tried to muster up. He gestured behind him, toward Roxy. “Besides, why don’t you ever give _her_ shit? I know for a fact she’s ruined equipment, too.” 

“Because I actually try not to,” Roxy said, and Eggsy didn’t even have to turn around to know she was raising an eyebrow, “and because I’m not an idiot.” 

Eggsy replied with a rude gesture. Roxy didn’t bother responding. 

“I swear to god,” and the way his Scottish brogue had gotten all rough did absolutely nothing to Eggsy, really, “if I had hair, I’d be _this_ close to pulling it all out.” 

“Too bad you’re bald, then, ‘cause I’da paid money to see that,” Eggsy said, leaning against Harry’s chair, smiling down at Merlin. 

“And who the fuck do you think is to blame for my baldness? You fucking agents, is who.” 

“Though I’m certainly sympathetic to your plight,” Harry said, and Eggsy would never figure out how Harry could project a shit eating grin with a blank expression, he’d have to ask him later, “I’m quite sure genetics has something to do with that, too.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Harry.” He looked at Eggsy. “I expect a new mug by the end of the week.” 

“Already got one picked out,” Eggsy said, and he wasn’t lying. It was a mug that listed a bunch of commonly misused and misspelled words with the actual definitions, all with “fuck” in the middle for emphasis. Merlin was gonna love it, especially since he loved making bitchy comments about Eggsy’s grammar every time he went over a report. 

“Good,” Merlin said, and then shook his head. “I probably shouldn’t be encouraging this kind of behavior.”

“Like that’d stop me,” Eggsy said. 

Merlin sighed, and it had all the elements of a _why is this my life_ sigh. Eggsy would have felt bad, if he didn’t enjoy it so much. “Go work on your report.” 

Eggsy offered him a salute. “Aye aye, captain,” he said, because Merlin had busted out his captain’s uniform for this job. Eggsy was resolutely ignoring how that was making him feel, and considering the circumstances, he was doing a pretty bang up job. He leant away from Harry’s chair and offered them both a grin before walking back to his seat. They resumed whatever conversation they were having, and Eggsy didn’t attempt to eavesdrop because he was hearing words like _paperwork_ and _lawyers_ and he couldn’t care less about that shit. 

He sat down, still smiling faintly. He saw Roxy’s calculating look and the expression froze and dropped from his face. “What?” 

“I may have misjudged,” she said, leaning back. 

“ ‘Bout what?” 

She glanced at Merlin and Harry and then at Eggsy, raising her eyebrows. “Both of them?” 

Eggsy blinked. His cheeks flooded with color, and he mumbled, “Dunno what you’re talking about.” 

Fuck Roxy and her observational skills. 

***

The thing was, Eggsy was amazing at hiding shit. He was a fucking _artist._ He’d been doing it his whole life, because you couldn’t go around telegraphing stuff around Dean unless you wanted the shit beaten out of you, and Eggsy’s mum would just start crying if she found out he’d done something wrong or he was feeling bad. So, Eggsy had learned at a pretty early age to internalize most shit and package it away for another day. Like never.

He was pretty much incapable of doing the same when it came to Merlin and Harry, though, and he didn’t fucking understand why. He knew he was being obvious when he stared at Harry for too long, or when he flirted with Merlin, or when he stared and flirted with both of them _at the same time_. At least, obvious enough that Roxy had picked it up. And he couldn’t stop. At all. He though to himself, every fucking time, _I won’t stare and/or flirt with Merlin and/or Harry. I will not. Not even a bit_ , and every fucking time, he did the exact thing he said he wouldn’t.

Eggsy had been pretty shit at following directions his whole life, but still—this was a bit much. 

“Two coming from the second hall, Eggsy,” Merlin said in his earpiece. 

“Ta,” Eggsy said and slipped into a corner, waiting for them to pass. He was in a bunker again—fucking melodramatic villains and their cliché love for underground lairs—and trying to bust out the daughter of a Pakistani diplomat with the least amount of carnage possible. The uniformed men—all black, which, how fucking tacky could you _get_?—passed him. 

“Man, can you _believe_ her? I’m not paid enough to deal with this shit, John,” one of them said. 

“I know, I know—but, like, we needed a job, right? And she offered it to us. Sure, she gets a bit too…maniacal sometimes, but it isn’t _that_ bad. She’s a good boss. Kinda. At least we don’t have to deal with her _all_ the time. That’s Steve’s problem,” John said, and then sighed. “Poor Steve. He’s gonna drop dead from an ulcer at 35. The horror stories he tells me.” 

“I know we don’t have to deal with her—thank Jesus—but she still gets on my nerves, okay. Like, no, stop, I _don’t_ want to go shoot up some guy so you can make a point, I literally just cleaned the blood out of this shirt.” 

“You’re wearing all black, man.” 

“Whatever. It’s the principle of the thing, y’know?” 

“Yeah, yeah. But think of it this way—you’re almost done. Just a couple more months and you’ll be out. It’s not that bad, bro.” 

“If I survive that long. I swear…” 

And their voices drifted off. Eggsy had been holding his breath but let it out as soon as he heard their footsteps fading away. 

“Americans,” he said. Suspected, and now confirmed. “We know of any female-led anti-Pakistan groups?” He slipped out of the corner and kept walking down, gun in hand. 

“Looking...and no, we don’t.” Eggsy could hear Merlin’s frown. “I’ll keep checking. Get Shabnam and meet Lancelot at the meeting point. 

“Thanks for the reminder, mate. Almost forgot I was here to do that,” Eggsy said, but he was smiling.

“It’s hard to know, with you,” Merlin said, voice dry. 

“Just admit you’re worried about me,” Eggsy said. Christ, how long was this fucking hallway? Shabnam was supposed to be at the end, but how the fuck was he supposed to save her if he couldn’t reach the end? 

Merlin made a noncommittal hum and Eggsy grinned. “Pay attention to what you’re doing, Galahad.” And then, after a minute of silence: “And it’s not you I’m worried about, it’s my tech.” 

“ _Ouch_.” Eggsy clutched his chest, and then realized there was no point in doing so if Merlin couldn’t see. “That hurts, it does.” 

“The truth has a habit of doing so, yeah. By the way, another coming your way.” 

Eggsy looked around, hoping to find some cover. When he found no place to tuck himself into, he sighed and raised his wrist, holstering his gun as he waited for the person to round the corner. 

He saw them round the corner of the conjoining hallway, their eyes widening behind the ski mask, and Eggsy swore as he dove forward and used the butt of his gun to bash them across the head, interrupting their yelp of surprise. He caught their body and lowered it onto the floor. 

“Hate it when they wear ski masks, ugh,” he said. “You should really update the amnesia darts so they can pierce cloth, Merlin.” He straightened his suit and started walking again, gun out. 

Merlin scoffed. “I’m sorry the _amnesia darts_ that come out of your _watch_ at the press of a button aren’t fancy enough for you.” 

“Just a bit of constructive criticism, mate, don’t take it the wrong way. Thought you were the one that told me if I had a complaint I should come directly to you. I ain’t gonna be able to whisper it into your ear right now, but that can be arranged later, if you want.” Eggsy’s grin could only be described as shit-eating. 

“Fuck off.” 

“No need to be hostile, bruv, I’m just saying. 

“One day, that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble,” Merlin said, voice lower.

Eggsy stopped, blinking, and then continued. “Um.” He swallowed, because Merlin probably hadn’t meant it _that_ way, even if that was how it sounded. Besides, Eggsy was on a mission, he had to stay focused. “That’s a chance I’ll have to take, I guess.” After a moment’s hesitation, “And you’re saying that as if it’s a bad thing.” His cheeks burned, because why the _fuck_ had he said that? Why? What was _wrong_ with him? 

Merlin was silent. “You’re almost there,” he said after a moment, his voice too neutral. Fuck, _shit_. “Prepare yourself.” 

Eggsy pushed his feelings aside, tightening his grip on his gun as he nodded. “Ready.” He stopped before he reached the end of the hallway; Shabnam was right around the corner, if their intel was right. He screwed on the silencer and crept forward. Taking a breath, he swung around the corner, gun raised, finger already pressing the trigger halfway and—

There was no one there. The door—a nondescript metal one, gray, pretty standard in terms of bad-guy’s-prison-doors—was shut, and Eggsy went forward, pulse thundering in his neck. Something wasn’t right. 

“Eggsy, stop. You can’t just go in there. Something’s obviously not right. Let me—” 

A scream cut Merlin off, and Eggsy bounded forward. Even if this was a trap—which was very likely—Eggsy couldn’t just ignore what was a little girl’s scream. He swung open the door, gun raised, eyes scanning the contents of the cell. And then, a prick on his neck, and blackness. 

***

He woke up with a pounding headache, the inside of his mouth sand paper, and he held in a groan as he lolled his head to the side and opened his eyes, blinking. A few moments passed before he came back to himself, and he looked around, wincing as the muscles in his stiff neck moved. 

It was a different cell than the one Eggsy had rushed into, though smaller. Still just as fuck-ugly. Chains held up his arms—new and shiny—and they were just high enough that Eggsy’s shoulder twinged and he had to stay on his tiptoes to alleviate some of the stress. Well, this never meant anything good. 

He looked at the ground and found his jacket on the side, in tatters. He said, “Fuck,” and his tongue was too heavy. He had looked _good_ in this suit, and it was expensive as fuck, too. 

“Ah, looks like sleeping beauty is finally awake,” a disembodied female voice said, and Eggsy looked up, eyes zooming in on a small camera at the corner of the ceiling. 

“That’s original, never heard it before.” It was probably the boss the two Americans had been talking about earlier—the one that enjoyed gunning people down. Wonderful. Couldn’t he at least once come into contact with a criminal that _wasn’t_ a complete psychopath? Just once?

Then, he remembered why he was in this position and his eyes widened. “What have you done with Shabnam?” 

“Oh, don’t you worry, my little Kingsman agent—we took good care of her.” 

Eggsy curled his lips in a snarl. “I swear to god, if you’ve hurt a fucking hair on her head—” 

“You’ll what? Struggle pathetically against your chains?” A scoff. “I’m terrified. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry too much about her right now, Eggsy. I’d worry a bit more about _you_.” Her voice was lilting, almost rhythmic, high-pitched, and the most fucking annoying thing Eggsy had heard. She was obviously going for “Most Cliche and Stereotypical” at the Villain Awards, the stupid Umbridge wannabe.  

It still made him pause, though, because they knew his name. They knew about Kingsman. How? 

“Which, by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask—would you prefer we call you Eggsy or Galahad while we torture you for information?” As she said that, the door burst open, and in walked two people, dragging a cart behind them. There was no covering, so Eggsy got a first class view at the various knives, whips, and other torture paraphernalia littering the cart. 

Eggsy’s heartbeat tripled, breath coming out faster, and he tore his gaze away from the cart, looking to the side as he clenched his jaw. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. He’d always known, rationally, that he might get tortured one day on account of his job, but now that it was actually happening—he’d never been more fucking terrified, except for maybe when Valentine had held a gun to Harry’s head.

These people weren’t mucking about. They weren’t just going to beat him up and then leave him—he could’ve dealt with that. No, these tossers were here to _torture_ him, all proper like. 

He didn’t even have his glasses. He didn’t know where they were, and Merlin wasn’t watching this, trying to find his location. He wasn’t transmitting anything back to HQ. He was completely alone, helpless, with a psychopathic bitch and her two psychopathic lackeys and he was about to be tortured. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, you know—Eggsy, or Galahad?” 

“Piss off,” Eggsy spat out, trying to skitter back as Asshole 1 reached for him. 

“Well, that isn’t very polite. Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman? I guess I’ll just have to carve the manners into you, then,” she said, and Eggsy could hear the glee in her voice, could guess how much she was gonna enjoy this. He gritted his teeth as Assholes 1 and 2 held him still, breathing faster through his nose because this was going to fucking _suck_. 

Asshole 1, who was standing in front of him, pulled his arm back and punched Eggsy right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of him. Eggsy gritted his teeth and held in a groan as Asshole 2 picked up a wrench and bashed it into his side. They stopped and held him upright, Eggsy’s shoulders straining, and she said, “So, Eggsy, I’ve got a few questions for you.” 

He caught his breath and said, voice strained, “Sod off.” 

 

#

 

Part 2 

 

Eggsy had been missing for 22 hours and Merlin was ready to kill someone. Preferably whoever had captured Eggsy. 

He was on his computer, trying to find Eggsy using his tracking signal, but Eggsy was offline. Roxy, who had been on-site but on the opposite end, had wanted to go after Eggsy right away, but Merlin had told her to retreat because they didn’t need two agents missing, and she couldn’t have caught up to Eggsy and his captors in time, anyway. She had acquiesced, but now, after turning over every virtual rock, Merlin was wondering whether that had been the right decision. 

She was sitting next to him, scrubbing through the footage Eggsy’s glasses had captured right before he’d gone black, hoping to find a clue, but Merlin knew it was a fruitless endeavor because she had done so almost fifty times.  

He _knew_ he should have injected a tracker into Eggsy. He was making it a fucking mandatory procedure for all missions, no matter how much the agent in question fussed and pouted. He would slip the tracker into a sandwich if he fucking had to. 

She let out a sigh and Merlin could hear the underlying scream. “I just—I don’t get it. How could they have known? How’d they get him?” 

“Faulty intel,” Merlin said, eyes still ahead as he scrolled through paragraphs of code, and that was his fault. He had been in charge of the intel, the mission, and he had fucked up royally. Christ. Fuck. How could he have—? 

No. There was no time for that right now. He had a job; he had to get Eggsy back. If he started wallowing, he wouldn’t be able to get anything done, and time was of the essence. 

Roxy made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. “But they knew the _exact_ moment Eggsy was there and—look.” She shifted forward, and Merlin tore himself away from the screen. She scrubbed forward through the footage. “Look, here, there’s the door, right? And Eggsy’s about to go in, but you stop him, and he hesitates.” On the screen, Eggsy stopped moving forward and stilled, Merlin’s own voice playing out. “As soon as you tell him to stop so you can check, there’s a scream on the inside, and Eggsy jumps in. They timed that perfectly, Merlin.” She shifted back and looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. “How?” 

Merlin let out a long exhale and ran a hand over his head. “I don’t—” He sat up straight. “Wait. Maybe…” He pulled up the footage on his screen and opened up his tracking software, searching. 

“Wait, what?” Roxy said, hand on his arm, leaning toward him. “What do you think it is?” 

Merlin’s eyes skimmed through the results, ignoring Roxy. And—there. He grinned, and he knew it wasn’t a nice one. “Gotcha.” 

“What? For fuck’s sake, Merlin—” 

He turned to her. “They were hacking us, but they couldn’t do it without a trace.” He tapped his finger on the screen. “And that’s exactly how we’re going to catch them and bring Galahad home.” 

Roxy blinked and then grinned, letting out a laugh. Then, after a while, her smile turned less relieved and more feral. “I’ll help with extraction.” The, ‘And show them the true meaning of pain,’ was unstated, and Merlin wholeheartedly approved. Hell, he was half tempted to dust off his own suit and reenter the field for this mission, but he knew he was more needed here, at the helm. 

_Besides_ , he thought, _Roxy will send my regards_. 

***

He walked into Harry’s office without knocking, clipboard in hand. 

Harry looked up, face pinched, shoulders tensed, and he wasn’t even pretending to be busy. He stared at Merlin.

Merlin wasted no time in saying, “We’ve got him. We know where he is.” 

Harry’s shoulders sagged for a second, cut from an invisible tether, and he said, “Thank fuck,” far too loudly to be considered under his breath, eyes shutting for a second.

Merlin was surprised at Harry’s obvious reaction, but he understood. It was Eggsy; all bets were off where he was concerned. 

Harry straightened, then, and said, “Good. I’m assuming Lancelot wants to help with extraction?” 

“That’d be a good guess, yeah.” 

“And is this a two-man mission, or more of a solo endeavor?” 

“I’d prefer two, but all of the other agents are off somewhere, and the trainees—what are you doing?” 

Harry was standing, adjusting his cuffs, and he raised an eyebrow at Merlin’s question. Merlin was almost overwhelmed with the urge to rip that stupid eyebrow off. “You said you needed two.” 

“Two active, _healthy_ agents,” Merlin said, lips thinning, and maybe it was a bit of a cheap shot, but there was no fucking way Merlin was going to let Harry go on this mission, not with his injuries. He didn’t want Harry to die— _again_. The once had been enough. Anymore would be overkill. 

“I was cleared this morning,” Harry said, eyebrow still raised like the condescending prick he was, “so I certainly fit the criteria.” 

Merlin glared. This was Harry, so overkill was expected. “Well, that’s awfully convenient. How much did you threaten the doctors?” 

“Why, not at all,” Harry said, and he wasn’t even trying to lie convincingly. “You know how stubborn our doctors are, so even if I did, it’s not as if it would have made much of a difference.” 

Which was true, but Merlin knew exactly how persuasive Harry could be, and his new position added some points in his favor. “Arthur, no.” 

“Are you going to try to stop me?” 

Merlin held the staring contest for a few moments before frowning. “Christ, Harry, fine,” he said, “but I don’t like this plan.” 

“Noted,” Harry said, not giving a fuck, and Merlin turned his clip board to show Harry what he had found, ignoring the impulse to bash him over the head with it. 

“You can sit down now, if you’re done making a point, because I assure you, you’re not going to be leaving soon,” Merlin said, voice flat, raising his own eyebrow. Two could play at being condescending pricks. “Unless you’ve got too much pride to do it now that I’ve pointed it out, in which case, have fun being uncomfortable.” 

It took a few seconds and more glaring before Harry sat.

Merlin gave him a sardonic smile and turned toward the painting, which doubled as a screen. He pulled up the coordinates and said, “This is where I traced them to. It’s a couple of hours old, but this is our best bet at finding Galahad.” 

“Do we know who’s behind this?” 

“No, not yet,” Merlin said, clamping down on his irritation at being interrupted—he had just been about to say that—because he understood, he really did. “The assumption is, however, that it’s the same group that we were trying to rescue Shabnam from—who is now safely at home, unharmed, and whose father won’t pick up our calls. It was a trap, that much is apparent, but we don’t know why and whether Eggsy was a specific target.” Were they just after Kingsman, or were they after Eggsy? How had they known Kingsman—or Eggsy—would be the ones sent after Shabnam? What role did the father play? So many questions were whirling through Merlin’s head, but he didn’t have time to sort through them. Locating and extracting Eggsy was the priority. 

Harry nodded, mouth turning down at the corner. “The father knew, then.” 

“Apparently.” 

“When’s departure?” 

“Half an hour. Helicopter’s undergoing inspection and being filled up, and the other two are out in the field.” 

“And why did inspection not happen before?” 

Merlin stood taller. “Because it just came back from another mission, _Arthur_ , which, if you had been doing your work, you’d have known.” 

Harry sighed and brought a hand to his temple. “I—” He stopped and swallowed.

“I know,” Merlin said. Not gentle, but softer. 

Harry met his eyes, searching. “Yes. I suppose you do.” 

Merlin gripped his clipboard tighter and then forced himself to relax. “I do,” he said, maintaining eye contact. 

Harry looked away first, smile tugging at his lips. “He has a way of doing that, doesn’t he?” 

Merlin cleared his throat. “Unfortunately,” he said, voice dry, and he was only half-joking. “I’ll bring Lancelot around in ten, I’ll brief everyone, and we’ll head out together.” 

Harry glanced up from where he’d been fingering his ring. “You’re coming?” 

Merlin had stopped himself from going in and beating the shit out of whoever had taken Eggsy—part of that had been knowing Roxy would do just as well, if not better—but he couldn’t bring himself to stay at HQ. “I’ll man the helicopter, it’ll be better if I’m on site.” The excuse sounded weak, even to his own ears.

Harry’s eyebrows went up, but he stayed silent and nodded. 

Merlin bit his tongue against the urge to offer more justification, because he didn’t need to justify anything, especially to Harry. He scowled and turned to leave—what the fuck was his problem, developing _feelings_ , especially considering Eggsy was a _boy_ —and Harry let him. He scowled his way through the door—how could he have let this happen? he was 43, for fuck’s sake, and a _super-tech spy_ , emotions didn’t fit in—and the halls—Eggsy was _26_ , and obviously in love with Harry—and to his office—why couldn’t Merlin have been as good at denial as Harry? His life would be so much easier—and sat down in his chair, swiveling toward his deck. His scowl stuck on his face as his eyes landed on his mug, a present from Eggsy, and he grit his teeth as he realized—rather, acknowledged—that if they didn’t get Eggsy back in one piece, if they didn’t get him back, he would never be the same. 

The months Eggsy and him had spent worrying over Harry were to blame. The vengeful spite that had driven them both to destroy any remnants of Valentine’s empire, the gut-wrenching worry over whether or not Harry was going to wake up—and what he’d be like if he did—and the fear, the fucking _fear,_ at losing someone so important, had forced them to bond. 

Thing was, Merlin had gone and broken one of his most important rules: don’t get too attached. He’d only really broken it once, with Harry, and wasn’t it fucking _hilarious_ that he broke it once more with Eggsy. Fuck those two. He would hate them, if he didn’t love them so much. 

He sighed and shut his eyes, his pounding headache growing louder—he hadn’t slept in 26 hours, not including the time before that—and then opened them again as he got up. He gathered his things, and headed to the briefing room, forcing himself to shut out everything in his mind except one thing: find Eggsy. 

 

#

 

Part 3

 

Harry was out for blood.

Now, this wasn’t an entirely unusual phenomena. Harry’s whole life had revolved around violence, and he was not one to shy away from it. Though he did not derive the visceral pleasure from it that some seemed to, he didn’t dislike it, either—simply, he didn’t let it bother him. The difference, this time, was that he was very much looking forward to doling out violence, even if it did mean getting blood on his favorite bespoke suit. Hell, that might’ve even been a plus. 

Thus, Harry was ready for Merlin to be done briefing them on this mission and actually get to carrying it out.  Roxy, who was sitting on his right, seemed to be of similar mind. The only problem, then, was the fact that Merlin hadn’t bloody arrived yet.

Harry checked his watch again, even though the minute hand hadn’t even moved.

“Where is he?” Roxy said, peering out the open door. “His stuff’s all right here.” She gestured to Merlin’s clipboard, which was sitting on the table. 

Which was another thing—why the fuck would he just leave his clipboard lying around? It was plain irresponsible. “Perhaps he stepped out because he was incapable of controlling his bladder,” Harry said. 

Roxy frowned. “Couldn’t he wait a while longer?” 

“Sorry to inconvenience you,” Merlin said, walking through the door, “but I assure you, my bladder’s just fine.” 

Roxy looked down, but Harry asked, “Where have you been?” 

“There was an issue with that helicopter. I haven’t been just lollygagging around.” He raised his eyebrows at Harry. “If we’re done with the Spanish Inquisition, shall we get to business? Or do you have more arbitrary questions to ask?” 

Harry waved a hand. “Please. Don’t stop on account of my arbitrary questions. Why would a supervisor want to know where his employee has been when he should have been at a briefing for a time sensitive mission, anyway?” 

Merlin didn’t roll his eyes, but Harry knew it was an effort. They always bantered, but this wasn’t jovial—this was sniping.

Merlin tapped his clipboard and brought up a map with the coordinates plotted on it. “Galahad’s being held in what seems to be an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of a small Russian town, almost six hours away from the embassy and four from where Shabnam was being held. Not much is known about the who or why, but this is the last signal that was received from their laptop and our best lead. It is entirely possible Galahad is not here, which is why it is imperative we focus on expediency.”

“Do you think that isn’t the priority?” Harry said. 

Merlin held his gaze. “One might get a bit carried away doling out justice.” He looked at the screen, fiddling with his clipboard again. “You will be each given a health kit, so you are able to administer small amounts of medicine if needed to better move Galahad back to the helicopter if he’s actually in the warehouse.” 

Harry gritted his teeth at the thought. He was going to kill all of them. Every last fucking one.

“Try to keep at least two alive, so we can get some information and find out more about the organization,” Merlin said, and he looked at both of them in turn, eyebrows up, waiting until they nodded. “There’s no new tech for this, and it’s fairly straightforward. I will be on board monitoring everything, and trying to track the signal if a better source arises. It’s a fairly large warehouse, and the blueprints I could pull—which were very old—show what might be an underground component, so be prepared for that. I couldn’t find any definitive way of locating Galahad within the warehouse, so a sweep needs to be done. The number of hostiles is unknown. Entry point is through the roof. You’ll have to parachute in, just to avoid tipping them off, and I’ll bring down the helicopter to wherever you need. Questions?” He looked around and nodded when there were none. “Good. Let’s go.” 

Fucking finally. Harry got up and was on his way out before both of them, and as the three walked through the corridor, Harry ignored anyone in the way. It was a plus that no one tried to greet them. The trainees and the staff got out of the way without a single sound, for their own good.

Harry didn’t know why the helicopter was so bloody far away, but they finally made it after walking through too many hallways. It was already running, and Harry nodded to the techie standing next to it before ducking in, Roxy on his heels. Merlin stopped to talk to the techie, nodded, and waited for the pilot to get out of the helicopter so he could take his spot. He ducked in and put on the headphones, looking back as he asked, “Ready?” 

They nodded in tandem, and Merlin acknowledged them before turning back. In a couple of minutes, they were in the air, and Harry was ready to get Eggsy and kill people in the process. 

***

It took three hours to get there, and they spent it all in silence, eyes ahead, mouths grim. From the looks of the threatening gray clouds, rain was a probability. 

Merlin was the one who broke the silence. “T-minus 20 until you have to lapel out.” 

Harry and Roxy broke into frenzied action, pulling on their parachutes. Harry pressed a button on the side and the panel slid open. He chose a nice semi-automatic, a machine gun, a smoke bomb, and two blades. Roxy opened the panel on her side and pulled out the same as Harry. They both stood, Roxy’s side open, and Merlin steadied the helicopter. 

“Okay,” Merlin said, and Roxy leaned forward, Harry right behind her. “Wait! Fuck’s sake, you two,” Merlin said, scowling. “Fucking be careful. Try not to get shot—it gets the upholstery messy.” He looked at Harry when he said that, and Harry couldn’t stop from scoffing, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Roxy jumped out after a cheeky salute, and Harry was after her, pulling down his goggles. 

One never got used to free-falling from a moving object. The nerves were always there, and Harry’s stomach turned as the air blasted against his face, the wind whistling in his ears. Fuck, this was his least favorite part of any mission. His heart leapt and he clutched the deploy lever even though he still needed to wait a few more seconds. _Five, four, three_ —Roxy deployed hers, flaring past him— _two, one._ He deployed his chute and gritted his teeth as gravity, velocity, and air resistance fought against each other. 

He floated down to the roof, getting rid of the chute as soon as he touched down. He waited for Roxy to get rid of hers before they both made eye contact and nodded, unholstering their pistols. No one was on the roof, but it was always best to be safe. 

Roxy was first at the entry point. Harry was about to kick the door in, but she stopped him with a hand, instead turning the knob and pushing it open. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Harry shrugged—he was a spy, which meant prone to dramatics. At least he admitted it.

Roxy shook her head, looking up, and then entered, footsteps as light as you please. Harry followed her, pistol pointed down, and went down the dark staircase. Could these people not afford proper lighting? It wasn’t that difficult. Poor lighting always fucked with his sense of depth, especially after the loss of his eye. He stumbled a bit—a loose step? Really?—and Roxy stopped, looking up at him. 

“You all right?” she whispered. 

“Fine, thanks,” Harry said, reminding himself not to take out his frustration on her. Not her fault he was now disabled. He pushed past her and said, “Come, we mustn’t waste time.” 

He heard her footsteps resume behind, and he kept going, tired of going down so many stairs. It was a bit much, really. 

“Right, according to the blueprints, you’re gonna be wanting to make a left in about five hundred meters, and then a right in twenty. That’ll lead you into the main area, so weapons out,” Merlin said.  

The left led them into a damp hallway, smelling of mold. Harry wrinkled his nose as he made a face, clicking his gun’s safety off.  

The right led them into a large clearing. The room was mostly empty, with a few boxes lying around on the sides. Harry scanned it—no one in sight, but something was amiss. 

“Duck, Arthur!” Roxy yelled, and Harry went down, jumping out of the way. He heard two gun shots and a body hitting the ground. 

He straightened, fixing his suit, and nodded his thanks to Roxy. The body groaned, and Harry raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t shoot to kill?”

“He can tell us where Eggsy is,” Roxy said over her shoulder, walking toward the body. “Cover me while I extract information.” 

Harry was tempted to pull rank and make Roxy cover _him_ while he extracted information, but he would be able to inflict his fair share of injuries in due time. “Of course,” he said, turning around. 

He heard bones crack, and the man saying, “You didn’t even ask me anything, _fuck_.” 

“That was to let you know who you were dealing with,” Roxy said, voice cool. “Now, I’m only going to ask once, and if you don’t answer, I’m going to kill you and then move on to another one of your friends, and repeat the pattern. Am I making myself clear?”

“Holy fucking shit, yes, you’re—you’re completely clear, 100%, crystal clear, please don’t kill me, I just needed the job, I’ll tell you anything I swear just please don’t kill me.”

Well, wasn’t that wonderful. 

“Where are they keeping the agent your organization captured?”

“Do you mean the attractive blond guy in the expensive suit? That guy? He’s being kept in a cell in the basement. You just go all the way down the staircase to the left over there, and then straight until you hit the wall, where the door to his cell is. It’s biometric security, so only Boss and people she’s cleared can get in the cell.” 

“How many guards downstairs, and where’s your boss?” 

“Ten, all with rifles, and Boss isn’t on-site, she never is.” 

Harry frowned. Shit. 

“Who has she cleared on-site?” 

“I—I don’t know—“ 

_Crack_. 

“ _Fuck_! Oh my god, I don’t know, I swear—“ 

A thud, this time, and a pained groan. “You’re absolutely sure? Because you’re completely useless to me, then.”

“Shit,” the man said, voice strained, “okay, it’s John, John and Steve downstairs. John’s six feet, dark hair, dark eyes, a scar on his right eyebrow, and Steve’s the only ginger around.” 

“Anything else you think we should know?”

“…Will you let me go if I tell you more stuff?” 

“No. But you may persuade me to knock you unconscious instead of killing you.” Harry could tell she was smiling.

“Holy shit, you’re insane,” the man whispered all in one breath. 

“Also in charge of the likelihood you’re still breathing in the next minute, don’t forget that.” 

A beat, as Roxy no doubt stared him down. “There are automatic guns pointing at the door that will go off as soon as it’s opened, if there’s an emergency. Steve or John will definitely turn on that setting.” 

“Anything else?” 

“No, that’s it, I swear, that’s all I know, please don’t kill me.” 

“Well, then. Thanks for your cooperation.” There was a loud crack, and Roxy came trotting up beside him. 

Harry looked at her, raising his eyebrows. “You could have given him the amnesia dart.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I did,” Roxy said, and there was a vicious glee in her eyes as she continued, “after I knocked him out. 

And, well, Harry couldn’t really object to that, now, could he? “After you,” he said, gesturing forward with his gun. 

“Such a gentleman,” she said, grinning, and unholstered her gun as she padded to the staircase. Harry followed her lead, and they stood together at the landing of the staircase. 

“I’ll make some noise and get some to come up here, we’ll kill them, then throw in the smoke bomb, go down, use the dead ones as body shields, injure and/or kill them all, then get Eggsy out,” Harry whispered.

“Sounds good.”    

“Wonderful.” He cleared his throat, and then yelled, “My, what horrible shape your ugly little warehouse is in. Mold, loose steps, poor lighting—surely even heathens such as yourselves are capable of at least keeping a place in functioning condition?”

There was a beat of silence, and then yelling in the vein of, “Who the fuck was that?” 

“Also—your security is truly horrible. Is a simple lock that difficult to obtain? I understand you’re are not of the brightest mind, but still—at least lock your doors. Surely that’s just plain common sense.”

A buzz of activity resumed, and three heavy footsteps trudged up the stairs. Roxy melted away into the shadows—rather masterfully, Harry would have to compliment her later—and Harry walked back exactly four steps and shoved his hands into his pocket. He would have loved to be leaning against his umbrella—it would have really painted the picture of nonchalance he was hoping for—but he settled for raising an eyebrow and waiting.

The three men that emerged onto the landing, guns pointed at him, were identical—blond, muscles so big they could have only been obtained using steroids, and confused but angry scowls. 

The one in the middle spoke up first, raising his barrel so it was pointed to the middle of Harry’s head, and all three took one step forward. “Who the fuck are you? How’d you get in here?”

“Why, I’m Harry Hart,” he said, because he wanted them to know who they were facing before they were killed, “and I’m here because you’ve got something of mine.” He grinned at them, and one by one, they fell to the ground, grunts of pain the only acknowledgment of being shot. 

“Rather masterfully done,” he told Roxy as she reemerged, a satisfied smile on her face. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ve been practicing.” She cocked her head toward the stairs. “Shall we go in, then?” 

Harry took out the flash bomb from his pocket, hefting it in his hands. “Let’s.” He and Roxy moved one of the corpses into the shadows and he threw the flash bomb into the stairwell.

There was a shout of, “GRENADE!” and then it went off. Harry and Roxy ran down the stairs, machine guns in one hand and a corpse in the other as a shield. It was awkward, but worth it when he felt the corpse jolt as it was hit with bullets. 

Harry commenced shooting at knee-level, and he heard several grunts of pain. He swung his machine gun back and picked out the outlines of people in the smoke, letting the corpse in his hand drop. Merlin’s new update on the glasses, shielding them from smoke, was flawless in the field. He must have been rightfully proud. 

He bashed people on the head with the butt of his gun, dodging stray punches and sloppy kicks left and right, and between Roxy and him, it was quick work to incapacitate all seven men left. He was going to kill them later, of course, when he had located John and Steve. He had counted three men that he’d disarmed, and as the smoke settled, he located Roxy across the room.

“Got two,” she said, pointing down toward the ground.

“Three,” he said, “which means, if my arithmetic is correct, two are missing.” He looked through the men he’d incapacitated—all of them unconscious and bleeding—and looked for a scar or ginger hair and found neither. “Do you have Steve or John, then?”

She shook her head. 

“Well. Isn’t that delightful,” he said, twisting his mouth. He glanced at the large, steel door to his left. It held Eggsy, and if Steve or John didn’t materialize soon, he was going to start shooting the fuck out of it, biometric security system be damned. There was no way he was leaving Eggsy there. 

Harry and Roxy both looked to the stairwell when they heard footsteps coming. “Yo, guys, did anyone want an Iced Caramel Macchiato, because I kinda for—holy shit.” A ginger man was standing there, frozen, holding ten Starbucks coffees in his hands, staring at them wide-eyed. After a beat, he dropped the coffee as he tried to reach for his gun, but by then, Harry had already pulled out his own and shot him in the knees.

He yelled and tumbled down the stairs, groaning at the bottom, gun left on the stairs. 

Harry looked at Roxy, raising an eyebrow. “I found Steve.” 

Roxy snorted.

Harry walked to Steve and put his foot on his trachea. “Now, it’s Steve, right?” 

A flurry of nods. He tried to say something, but Harry pressed down harder, and a wheeze came out instead of words. 

“No. You don’t speak.” Harry leant forward, and his weight made Steve gasp harder. “Now, I’m going to tell you what happens. You’re going to go to that door over there—“ he pointed toward it “—and open it without a peep. I’m going to make you go in first, so don’t even think about triggering the emergency alert. Where’s your friend, John?” 

Steve pointed toward the door, making no effort to speak. Fast learner, this one. 

Harry nodded. “All right.” He eased the pressure, and Steve bent in half, coughing and gasping. Harry let him have that, and then after a minute, he dragged Steve to the door, ignoring his grunt of pain. Steve propped himself up against the door and took a deep breath before craning his head to the side, pushing the necessary buttons and then splaying his hand across the screen. After a moment, the pad flashed green, and the door started to swing open with a mighty whoosh. It was slow, because the door was so heavy.

“Oh, thank god you’re back, man. Stupid kid’s unconscious and Boss’s already gone, waiting until he regains consciousness,” was heard from within the door. The voice was getting closer, and once the door swung open, John’s head popped out. The grin on his face fell, and he blinked before saying, “You’re not Steve.” 

“No. I’m not,” Harry said, and then punched him in the face. And then, for good measure, he knocked his head against the wall and punched him in the face again. He heard the satisfying crack of the bones in his nose breaking, and the fucker crumpled to the ground. 

He was about to commence bashing in his face until he was dead for hurting Eggsy—was his unconsciousness _boring_?—when Merlin said, “We need him for information, Harry. Kill him after we’re done.” 

Harry took a step back and ran a hand through his hair to push it back into place, flexing his hands. Merlin was right, unfortunately. He’d have to wait a little bit before killing the bastard like he deserved. He turned around and saw Roxy knock Steve out by stepping on his groin and then kneeing him in the face. 

He looked at her. She stared back, eyes ablaze. Then, he clenched his jaw, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before turning back around and walking into the cell. 

He saw Eggsy, strung up with blood running down his mouth, his cheek, his nose, his chest—saw the bruises blossoming across his skin, saw the tatters his jacket was in, saw his hair flopped against his forehead, and he turned outside, took out his gun, and killed all seven of the men they had incapacitated one by one, hitting them multiple times in the abdominal so they would slowly bleed to death, making sure to shoot the ones that were awake at the end so they could beg him for their lives. He did this without saying a word, and then stood there for a few moments, catching his breath. Over the line, Merlin said, “Good,” and Harry couldn’t agree more.  

He heard Roxy yell, “Fuck!” and punch the wall, and he went back into Eggsy’s cell.

“His wounds aren’t something we can treat immediately. I’ll carry him out. Shoot down the chains while I support him,” he said as he walked in, face a stone, and she nodded, her bleeding right hand holding out the gun as she shot down the chains in two quick shots. 

Eggsy fell, like a rag doll, and Harry caught him, swinging him into bridal style because he wasn’t lugging him around like a sack of potatoes, not in this condition. “Meet us in the main entrance, Merlin,” he said. The words fell from numb lips, almost as if he wasn’t actually _here_ , in this moment. 

“Affirmative,” Merlin said. 

“The prisoners?” Roxy said behind him, keeping in step.

“We’ll get them after we’ve situated Eggsy,” Harry said, because he didn’t give a fuck about anyone else right now, not when Eggsy was in his arms, unconscious and weak and hurt. 

He tugged Eggsy closer, tightening his grip, his mouth a grim line as he all but ran up the stairs, and all he could think about was how close he had come to losing Eggsy—his Eggsy—and how that was never happening again. 

 

#

 

Part 4

 

 He woke up with a pounding headache, the inside of his mouth sand paper, and he held in a groan as he lolled his head to the side, eyes still shut. _I’ve done this before,_ he thought, and when he remembered where he was, his heart spiked and he got ready for more pain. Every muscle tensed, and he blinked his eyes open, breath coming in short bursts, because even though knowing when the strikes were coming made things worse, he couldn’t help but want to see his attackers. 

“Eggsy, calm down, you’re safe,” he heard, distant and far away, and it almost sounded like Roxy. He swiveled his head to the side, and his vision swam. It couldn’t be Roxy, though, because he was still in the cell, being questioned, beaten, hurt, and Roxy would never let that happen to him, Roxy would never just stand there, she’d get him out, she’d—

His eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped backward as he lost consciousness again. 

***

This time when he woke, it was slowly. His fingers twitched first, and he felt cotton. A pillow rested behind his head, and the nauseating smell of hospital assaulted his nose. The beeping of the monitor was loud and annoying, and he tasted the horrible aftertaste of not having brushed your teeth in days. He forced his eyes open, which felt as if they’d been crusted shut, and blinked against the bright lights. 

He was safe. Holy fuck, he was safe. He was okay. He was alive. 

“Oh, thank fuck.” 

He tilted his head to the side, toward the noise, and he saw Roxy sitting right beside him, unshed tears in her eyes, smiling at him like he’d never seen her smile before, open and relieved and wide. Other than that, she looked terrible—dark circles under her eyes, hair unkempt, and her suit looked as if she’d slept in it.

He tried to say her name, tried to return her smile, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. He swallowed, licked his lips—he was so fucking thirsty, Christ—and croaked, “Roxy.” 

“Hey,” she said. She held up a glass of water to his lips and pushed the straw into his mouth. “You must be thirsty.” 

He drank, and he could feel the path the water took through his mouth, down his throat, down to his stomach, filling him up, and he never wanted it to stop. Roxy pulled the straw out of his mouth, and he chased it, making a noise of protest.

“Slow down, Eggsy,” she said, still grinning, “we don’t want you to choke to death.” 

“ ‘M fine with that,” he said, and his voice was still a rasp, but better than before. “Gimme.” 

Roxy brought it back, and Eggsy offered a small smile before stopping, because his lips felt as if they’d just split apart. He drank until there was nothing left in the glass, and then kept sucking hoping it would somehow refill itself. It didn’t. 

“I’ll go get the doctor,” she said after setting aside the glass. “Stay here.” 

“Thinkin’ of runnin’ a marathon, actually,” Eggsy said, words slurred together. Christ, he was so tired. “Ruin my fun.” 

Roxy laughed much harder than the joke warranted, and Eggsy stared at her as tears streamed down her face. What the fuck was wrong with her? 

“Okay?” he said. 

Roxy took a deep breath, wiping away the tears, and shook his head at him. “Of course you’d be asking that, lying in a hospital bed.” 

She hadn’t answered his question, though, and if he wasn’t so fucking tired, he’d call her out on it. She started walking away, and he called, “Roxy,” but it came out more a single syllable than an actual name, not the stern shout he’d wanted. 

He tried to muster up his righteous indignation, but his eyes felt too heavy and his body too leaden. He wished they’d turn off the lights, because they were so bright. And the smell was horrible. 

God, he was so tired. 

He wondered if Roxy was going to come back. Would she come back? Why had she left again? 

Sleep overtook him. 

***

There were loud, familiar voices all around him. 

“What the fuck is wrong with him, Sand?” 

“Arthur, sir, please, calm down, we can’t—“ 

“Why does he keep falling asleep?” 

“Sir, I understand you’re upset, but—“ 

“Don’t _sir_ me, fix him. Do your fucking job.” 

“Harry, please, she’s doing all she can.” 

“I don’t fucking care, Merlin, she has to do more!” 

“Sir, Galahad’s just tired, he’s stable. He had a panic attack a bit earlier and mild seizure, but he’s okay now—you’re just overreacting a little—“ 

“Excuse me? Are you saying Arthur’s overreacting to one of his agents being brutally tortured and then being in a near-coma for four days, losing consciousness every time he wakes? Is that not a normal reaction? What do you think his reaction should be, Dr. Sand? What should he be expecting, then, according to your medical expertise, if not the worst?” 

“I—I’m sorry, Merlin, I didn’t—“ 

Eggsy decided it was about time he put a stop to this. “Wa’s goin’ on?” 

Everything stopped. Four collective breaths were held.

Eggsy squinted. “ ‘Arry? Merlin? Rox? What’s wrong?” 

And everything was let out all at once.

“Thank god—“ 

“You’re awake—“

“For fuck’s sake Eggsy—“ 

“Look, he’s awake—“ 

Eggsy blinked at them, the cacophony of voices drowned out by one another. Harry and Merlin were on either side of his legs, Dr. Sand at the end of the bed, and Roxy was right next to him, squeezing his hand tight. 

“Shut up, everyone!” Roxy said. “Can’t you see he’s getting overwhelmed?” 

God bless Roxy and her all knowing ways. 

The three looked at him, and it was Dr. Sand that spoke first. “How are you feeling, Eggsy?” 

“Great,” he said.

Dr. Sand stared at him.

“Shitty, actually. Really shitty,” he said, voice just above a whisper. “Can I—“ He cleared his throat. “Can I get some water?” 

Merlin glared at Dr. Sand. “Where’s the water?” 

Harry glared at Dr. Sand, too. “Haven’t you been giving him water?”

Dr. Sand stuttered, “I—we—have, been giving him water, he’s just—he’s on an I.V. and unconscious, it’s only—look! He has water.” 

While Merlin and Harry had decided to be useless, Roxy had already handed him the water, and he drank it all in one giant gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He held the empty glass out to her. “Thanks, Rox.” 

Harry and Merlin were studying him with intense scrutiny, and it was making Eggsy’s skin crawl. 

“I’ll leave you alone for now, Galahad, and come back later to go over your injuries. If you need anything, don’t be afraid to let me know,” Dr. Sand said, smiling at him. “You should be making a full recovery, though.” 

“Thanks, doctor,” Eggsy said, and he tried to shift up to get more comfortable. He winced as a shooting pain went up his shoulder, and he slumped against the pillow. 

Harry and Merlin both protested, “Don’t move,” at the same time, making aborted gestures toward him.

Eggsy looked at him, a _what the fuck_ look on his face because what the fuck? What was wrong with them? 

“You all right?” Roxy asked, eyebrows furrowed.

He waved a hand in Roxy’s general direction. “You said I was out for four days? Why?” he asked Dr. Sand.

“Internal bleeding, I’m afraid, and dehydration, in addition to a lot of external stress.” 

Eggsy nodded. “My shoulder hurts, too.” 

“Your shoulder was put under a lot of strain, and I’m afraid the muscle isn’t fully healed yet. With physical therapy and rest, it should be fine within a few weeks,” she said. 

“Great.” Fuck. He’d lose his shoulder for a few weeks? How was he going to go in the field? Speaking of—he looked to Harry. “How long do I have until my next mission?” 

“Oh, Eggsy,” Roxy whispered, and he could hear her exasperation. “What have you done.” 

Harry’s eyebrows twitched, face a cool facade. “You’re…next mission?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Merlin said, and when Eggsy looked to him, the sheet under his hand was crumpled into his tight grip, his jaw muscle jumping. He took a deep breath through his nose. 

“You’re asking me about your next mission while you’re still recovering from being, for all intents and purposes, in a coma for four days?” 

Eggsy looked between the both of them before settling on Harry. “…Yes?” 

“Do you not see what condition you’re in?” Harry said.

“Did they beat the intelligence out of you, too?” Merlin said.

“You can’t even settle against a pillow without hurting like hell, you do realize that, right?” 

“Did you miss the part about you having been in a coma for _four days_ , Christ.”

“You’re mission—there is no mission, Eggsy,” Harry said, shaking his head.  

“Why the fuck would there be a mission? Do you think we just sit there, with agents in the hospital, planning their next demise?”  

“Why are you even thinking about your next mission?” 

“For fuck’s sake, Eggsy, fuck your next mission, you’re an invalid.” 

“Um,” Eggsy said when they paused to take a breath. 

“Great idea,” Roxy said, rolling her eyes. “Please, continue bombarding the injured person with anger, making him think he’s done something wrong." 

Harry opened and shut his mouth, and Merlin looked like he’d been sucking on a lemon. 

“We’re not—you haven’t done anything wrong, Eggsy,” Harry said, all furrowed eyebrows and earnest expression.

“Of course not,” Merlin said, gruff. “You haven’t done anything wrong. At all.” 

“Do you see what I’ve been dealing with?” Roxy said. 

“That’s why you’re the best, Rox,” Eggsy said, grinning at her. 

Roxy sniffed. “I am. You owe me.” 

“I do,” he said, softer. 

Roxy looked at him as if he were a sad puppy. “No you don’t, you dolt.”

“Well,” Dr. Sand said after a moment of uninterrupted eye contact between Roxy and Eggsy, “I just wanted to let you know that you’ll make a full recovery, and considering how young you are, it’ll be fast. You don’t have any permanent muscle injuries, which is remarkable, but I suppose that’s the benefit of youth. You will have some scars left once the stitches are out, though.”

“Thanks for everything, doctor. I’ll let you know if I need anything,” Eggsy said. 

“You do that,” she said, smiling at him before walking out. 

“So, do we know why I went through all this? Another evil mastermind intent on taking over the world, maybe?” Eggsy said.

“It was a rogue CIA agent,” Merlin said. “Harry and Roxy insisted on being the ones to extract information, so it was a fast confession.” 

“Rogue CIA? What? Why?” 

“I’m afraid that may be my fault, a little bit,” Harry said. “I wasn’t forthcoming enough in divulging information, apparently, so one of them decided to take things into her own hands. She’s fled, but the Americans are after her. Well, everyone’s after her.” 

“Good,” Eggsy said. “She could’ve literally just asked for more information, though. Didn’t have to go all Umbridge.” Fucking spies. 

 “Oh, but where’s the fun in behaving like a normal, sane person?” Roxy said. 

Eggsy laughed, then stopped when his abs hurt. Overall, though, he was feeling much better. Which meant: “Now,” Eggsy said, “what’s wrong with you two? Roxy’s the most normal one right now, and you know something wrong when that’s the case.” 

It was time to get some answers. 

Roxy cuffed his head lightly. “Oi.” 

Merlin looked away, toward the ugly blue walls, and Harry suddenly found the thread count of the sheet enrapturing.

“Out with it, c’mon,” Eggsy said. “Did I actually lose a leg and no one’s had the heart to tell me? Am I not actually speaking English right now?” His eyes widened. “Shit, does Mum know I’m in the hospital? Wait. Shit, has something happened to Mum?” 

Roxy was staring at Harry and Merlin, eyes widening as she jerked her head toward Eggsy. She wasn’t even trying to be subtle.

“Shit, what’s happened? Roxy, I swear to god—“ 

“Unbelievable. You two are un- _believe_ -able.” Roxy looked at Eggsy. “Everything’s fine, Eggsy, these two are just absolute morons. The big dirty secret is that they care about you and they’re too emotionally constipated to say anything, that’s why they’re being so ridiculous.” 

“I’m still your boss,” Harry said, frowning.

“And I still plan your missions,” Merlin said, glaring.

“Are you denying it?” she said, raising an eyebrow. There was no answer. “That’s what I thought.” She turned back to Eggsy. “And are you really surprised people are this worried about you?” 

Eggsy squirmed, then stopped because everything hurt. His mum was the only one that had really cared about him, which is why he’d always made sure to hide anything bad in his life from her. If he said that to Roxy, though, he was pretty sure he was going to get pity eyes for the rest of his life, so he stayed silent. 

Then, he realized what Roxy had said earlier. He whipped his head between Merlin and Harry. “You two care about me?” 

Roxy face-palmed. 

Merlin looked at him with something akin to disgust. “Thank god you’re pretty.” 

Harry was looking at him as if trying to figure out whether or not he was joking. “You’re…serious?”

Well, this was just a plain old attack. “Hey, it’s a valid question. Stop with your…judge-y eyes.” 

“Of course we care about you,” Merlin said, saying the word “care” as one would say _dog shit_ or _toilets that don’t flush_. “Everyone knows we care about you. I got a fucking email expressing sorrow at what had happened to you, asking me whether or not I needed any assistance. Harry here was given a bottle of Bourbon to, and I’m quoting the note attached, ‘cope with Galahad’s injured state.’ You _are_ supposed to be a spy, right?” 

Eggsy open and shut his mouth. “Okay.” He swallowed. “Right.” He nodded, licked his lips. “Right.” Maybe it was the drugs pumping through his system, loosening his tongue, but he couldn’t help but ask, “And, uh, is this is all brotherly, platonic caring, then?” It was their own fault that he’d asked the question, really, because they’d insulted his character and his intelligence, and now he had to prove that, once he went back and examined their interactions, he was capable of analysis.

Merlin cleared his throat. “Well, now, that depends—“ 

“No,” Harry said, staring straight at Eggsy, his voice ringing clear. Then, softer, “No, it’s not, and I think you know that.” 

Merlin frowned and crossed his arms, but didn’t say anything. 

“All right,” Eggsy said, and he was smiling wide. His heart was beating loud for a different reason now. “Thanks for your honesty and cooperation, cheers.”

But Harry’s face was still grim, and Merlin wouldn’t make eye contact. 

“O…kay, I think I’m going to head on out for some coffee. I’ll be back when, uh, this is all over,” Roxy said, and she zipped out of the room without waiting for a confirmation. 

“So,” Merlin said, rubbing his nose. He looked at Eggsy and winced. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but let’s get it over with…who do you choose, then?” He made a face. “How the fuck is this my life,” he whispered to himself.  

Eggsy looked between the two, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait. What?” 

“Choose,” Harry said, and he too made a face. “That does sound rather ghastly,” he said to Merlin. “As if a teenage girl were writing her fantasy and we were the mouthpieces.” 

“Right, wonderful, but I had a question. What do you mean, choose?” Eggsy said. 

“Harry and I have come to a decision that whomever you pick, you pick, no hard feelings on either side and no residual awkwardness or schisms. The other has to get over it and fucking deal,” Merlin said. 

 “Okay, great,” Eggsy said slowly, “but since this is up to my choice, what if I choose both?” 

“…Both?” Harry said, eyebrows flying up to his hairline. 

“Wait, both?” Merlin said, reexamining Eggsy. 

“Well, yeah,” Eggsy said. He looked down, then back up. “Yeah, I, um, care about you both, too, y’know.” His cheeks burned. He wondered whether he could get away with blaming that on a fever. 

“You—you can’t just choose both,” Harry said. 

Eggsy set his mouth, jutting out his chin. “Why? You two have a history and obviously care about each other, and I care about both of you, and both of you care about me—sounds fine to me.” 

“That’s the thing, though—we have history,” Merlin said, and this was the first time Merlin had approached anything resembling gentle. “A lot of it. There’s a reason we’re not currently in a relationship.” 

“Yeah, but, like, if I enter the mix, I bet we can fix whatever doesn’t work between you two. Besides, I bet it’s just miscommunication. You two ain’t very good at that.” 

Merlin started, “Well—no, it wasn’t just—“ 

“Then what?” Eggsy said. 

“I’m asexual. Harry’s the polar opposite. That provided some problems,” Merlin said, voice dry, staring at Eggsy. 

“And we were…young,” Harry said, looking at Merlin’s profile. “Reckless.” He looked to Eggsy. “Much like you are right now.” 

“Yeah, but I’m much more emotionally mature than you two when you were young. Maybe even right now. I’ve been taking care of Mum since I was seven, and Daisy since I was nineteen. I know how to handle people, and I know how to help them handle their own problems without trying to fix them myself,” Eggsy said. He wanted to ask what exactly the problems had been—had Harry cheated? Had Merlin broken if off? Had Harry asked for too much? Had Merlin started feeling guilty?—but he knew right now wasn’t the time. He also knew that though he wasn’t going to fix whatever was wrong between them, he would definitely be able to help them fix it themselves.

“That’s different,” Merlin said.

“No, it’s really not. I love ‘em, too. I know how to deal with people when I care about them,” Eggsy said, knowing what he’d just implied. “You two are very bad at doing that.” 

“Well, thanks,” Harry said. 

Eggsy shrugged. “First rule of any relationship—open and honest communication. Sorry, I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.” 

“And who says this even is a relationship?” Merlin said. Always the wet blanket, that one. Eggsy’d have to work on that.

“C’mon, you two, it’ll work! We just have to put in the effort.” Neither of them looked moved. “Look, what’s the worst that could happen? It ends badly? So what? Anything can end badly, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try it. If everything goes to hell, we can still maintain a professional relationship. We’re all capable of compartmentalizing our emotions and repressing them, I know we are.” Not even a smile. Eggsy sighed. “Look, if we don’t, we’ll always be just this side of unhappy, knowing we could have more.” Eggsy swallowed. He was thirsty again. _In more ways than one_ , he thought, and internally chuckled at his own joke. He was fucking hilarious. “In this line of work, you’re not exactly going to be able to find people you trust, people you can be with. We have to at least try.” 

Merlin and Harry avoided eye contact again, and Eggsy started to reconsider whether or not he really wanted to deal with this for the upcoming years. 

“Come on. You know I’m right,” Eggsy said, allowing a bit of a whine to form in his voice. He was lying in a hospital bed. He was entitled, all right? When they didn’t respond to his whining, he gave them both his best set of puppy eyes. 

“Fine,” Harry said. 

It always worked with Harry. Eggsy tried not to let the smugness shine through. 

“Fine, Harry?” Merlin said, uncrossing his arms. They swung at his sides as he stared at Harry, mouth ajar. “You can’t be serious!”

“Well, he’s got a point.” 

“No, you’re just completely indulgent when it comes to him. You can’t just give in every time he employs puppy eyes, Harry, he’ll just do it more often. Haven’t you ever heard of classical conditioning?” 

“I totally do have a point, thanks,” Eggsy said. “Just because you’re too stubborn to admit that aloud doesn’t change that.” 

“I’m not being stubborn—“ 

Harry and Eggsy both scoffed.

“I’m not being stubborn,” Merlin repeated, glaring at both of them, “I’m using common sense. Am I the only one that’s seeing how this ends in a fiery crash?” 

“Oh my god, Merlin, did you not listen to anything I said? I literally went over how we should proceed even if it does end in a fiery crash because it’s better than wondering _what if_ all the time and dying alone and heartbroken,” Eggsy said. 

“He’s right, you know,” Harry said.

“Shut up,” Merlin said to him, and then turned to Eggsy. “And have you thought of the practicality of this arrangement?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh? When, exactly? You didn’t even realize what was happening until a few moments ago.” 

“Right now.” Eggsy groaned, and if it was a bit melodramatic, who could blame him? “Merlin. Come on. Trust me. Trust us. We’ll make it work.” 

Merlin stared between him and Harry. “This is really fucking stupid.” 

“Yes,” Harry said.  

He frowned. “We should at least properly discuss everything.” 

“We’ll do it as soon as you agree. I’ll make a fucking presentation if you want, with correct grammar and bullet points and everything. If you’re not a hundred percent convinced by the end, we’ll drop it and never speak of it again and we can all go back to dancing around one another pretending we don’t feel what we feel,” Eggsy said. “Right, Harry?” 

“Absolutely,” Harry said, grinning a bit though he was trying to look solemn.  

Merlin shifted, still frowning. “If you force things too much, you might end up breaking them.” 

“Only if they can’t withstand the stress. Otherwise, they adjust. And _we_ can stand the stress. That’s fucking physics, you can’t even disagree with me on that.” Eggsy said. “You taught me that.” 

Merlin set his mouth and stared at them, crossing his arms. He let out a long breath through his nose and uncrossed his arms. “Fuck.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. _Fine_.” He wagged a finger at them. “But when everything goes to hell, I’m going to be standing here saying I fucking told you.” 

“You have absolutely every right to do that, if it ever comes down to it,” Eggsy said, refraining from letting out a high-pitched squeal of happiness. It might’ve been too early in the relationship for that right now. 

“I’ll bake you a cake and have “You Were Right” inscribed upon it if it comes down to that,” Harry said, and he was smiling so wide it took up half his face. 

Merlin cracked his first grin of the day, shaking his head. “I’ll fucking hold you to that.” 

Eggsy clasped his hands together. “Well, gentlemen, now that that’s settled—when’s our first date?”  

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> you've reached the end! congratulations. if the attempts at being british had you face-palming and sighing, "fuckin americans," let me know in the comments! if you have any constructive criticism, let me know!
> 
> also, here's [merlin's mug](https://www.etsy.com/listing/217991129/funny-grammar-expletive-coffee-or-tea?ref=related-4) . thanks for reading, guys, and have a great day! i'm also on [tumblr](http://studyfiveever.tumblr.com/)


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